Lost Boy
by Ronja-R
Summary: Peeta thinks back on his relationship with Katniss and how his feelings for her developed and changed over time. A companion piece to TCYDT but I don't think you need to have read it in order to understand this story.


So here it finally is, the first Peeta-POV. I originally wrote the first draft of this several months ago and since then the other story has evolved to a different place than what I had in mind at first. Consequently there are a few "plot holes" in this, mainly with Peeta reflecting back on things he oughtn't to remember in the story's canon. I debated with myself whether or not to edit those parts out but in the end I decided to leave them be, even if it doesn't work entirely with the rest of the story. The things he reflecs upon re: his feelings for Katniss in canon is by and large my interpretation of Collins' work and for that reason I wanted to leave it in. Any conflicts it presents with TCYDT will have to be seen as plot holes.  
>Don't know if I'm making any sense with this but hopefully you'll get it when you read it.<p>

The title, btw, is one of the alternative ones I had in mind for TCYDT. I'm still not happy with that title but it's a little late to change it now...

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><p>It ought to be past midnight by now but I can't seem to fall asleep. It's been a while since I've had trouble going to sleep at night, though admittedly that's thanks to the sleeping pills dr. Aurelius prescribes for me. When I first came back to the district I was afraid to close my eyes at night, a fear that has been with me since my Capitol prison cell when I never knew who would come to fetch me, at which hour or for what purpose. I don't feel safe at night and even knowing that I'm safe in my own home and no one will come and collect me there's never any knowing what terrors might visit me in my dreams. Adding even further to my fears is dreading that aching loneliness that follow when I wake up to a lonely house. I never did get used to that, moving from a crowded home shared with parents and two siblings to a house at least four times the size of the one I grew up in, and doing it all by myself. That loneliness is still a part of me and perhaps always will be. Gradually my nightmares have decreased at least, though I have accepted that they will never go away entirely, but the other parts aren't going anywhere anytime soon. So almost every night I take a pill to help me fall asleep, though I know I need to wean myself off the medication sooner rather than later.<p>

I'm not alone in bed tonight. Lace is curled up on her side, facing away from me, sleeping soundly. Nothing ever seems to bother her sleep. Granted I've only shared a bed with her twenty-or-so times but she's not had a single nightmare in that time. The only other girl I've slept beside used to have nightmares all the time. Probably she still does. I often worry about her getting enough sleep but it feels like a low blow to express those concerns to her when I've told her it's best that she doesn't come over in the middle of the night.

I look over at the girl beside me and reach out my hand to let my fingers touch her soft, mahogany hair. She's a wonder. More than I ever thought I would get to experience, definitely more than I ever believed I deserve, especially now that I've been turned into a monster and part of that won't ever go away. Dr. Aurelius has me taking medication for that too, drugs that numb me to a certain degree, sometimes making me feel like I'm sleepwalking through life. Even so it can't hinder the flashbacks that occur every so often. But she stays. She seems concerned for me but not afraid. She doesn't judge me and unlike Katniss she never seems to find my presence to be a bother. She's a soft place to land and a warm welcoming and I don't know that I have ever had that before. It's the closest I have ever come to unconditional.

I've only loved once before her and I was so certain I could never feel that way again, about anybody. It's tough to think back on it because I have such a complicated relationship with my past emotions. Some were distorted and redesigned by people who saw me as nothing more than their personal plaything, a weapon they could customize to help me destroy the girl I would have rather given my own life for. Some memories they were never able to touch at all because I learned how to guard memories they had no knowledge of but even those memories became problematic for me because I couldn't tell if they were real or not. They didn't seem real. The crafted memories and the brainwashing were stronger. One of the things I hate those people for the most is that they stole my very _feelings_ and changed them, denying me the right to feel what I've felt.

I loved Katniss. So much it hurt inside. It's funny how I can be aware of that, like an anecdote from my past, but it's like it happened to somebody else. They did that. They made me hate her instead, and perhaps it was easier than I would have liked it to be. Sometimes I think they were able to patch in to some part of me that couldn't make peace with her for her inability to return my feelings, patch in to my deeply aching heart, and turned that into hatred and fear. Other times I wonder if they programmed me to think that way.

The whole affair was complicated, very much so, and it's taken me months, _years_, to sort through it but thanks to dr. Aurelius' help I've been able to work through at least some of it. I still have long ways to go but I think I now have at least some clue as to which direction I'm heading. I know what my two main goals are. I want to find the person I used to be and I want to have a good relationship with Katniss. She and I are tied together in ways nobody but us can understand. Most of what once was between us is gone now and I am to blame for that but I still have hope that enough of it can be restored that we can be truly close again, if she wishes it so. We seem to be well on our way sometimes, though I've felt her withdraw from me and I'm not sure why. It scares me and it frustrates me. It's like she expects me to know how to read her and know what she wants and feels and I'm not able to do that.

During this process of working through the jumbled mess that are my memories and my feelings and an alarmingly long list of triggers they seem to have planted in my brain I've been able to establish a form of timeline for my relationship with her. I detest the fact that it's so clinical, hinging largely on information other people have fed to me, but I think I've begun to figure out how to use this timeline to tap in to things I've felt and things I've experienced. I can see my own past with Katniss, or what I at this point believe to be my past with her, but to my never-ending frustration some parts of it still feel like narratives about a stranger. A stranger who looks like me, minus burn scars and other various physical disfigurements, but is a more balanced and likeable person. A stranger who loved Katniss Everdeen with a passion I hope I can possess again at some point in my life.

One thing I know for sure, and that is that what I felt for her initially at the age of five was not _love_. Not in the sense you read of in romance novels or sing about in songs. I was completely taken with her but I was no idiot, I knew it was a crush and I knew the difference between that and _true love_. I knew I idolized her and that when she starred in my daydreams and fantasies that it was my interpretation of her I saw, and not necessarily the true Katniss Everdeen. I knew that. It didn't keep my heart from beating faster whenever she was near, didn't stop me from longing to reach out and touch her when she was close and it didn't stop me from wishing with all my might that she would notice me someday. I wanted to know the real her and to have an honest chance at her knowing me.

She always seemed so closed off and shy, especially after her father had died. I saw her poverty and her struggle and I wanted to help her. I fantasized sometimes about saving her from her troubles and winning her affections but I always felt so ashamed afterward because she didn't need a boy to save her. Even if she did, that boy would be Gale Hawthorne and not me. What did I have to offer her anyway, but a merchant pedigree? I supposed she could marry me for my social standing but that wasn't what I wanted, nor did I think she would have it in her to do that no matter how desperate she might get. She had her pride and I admired her so much for that. Me, I had precious little pride. Growing up with an overbearing, sometimes physically violent mother doesn't exactly install a strong sense of self-worth. Especially when your father turned the other way and your brothers treated you like the annoying runt of the litter. Katniss' pride and dignity made her all the more wonderful in my eyes. Being able to give her that bread on that rainy day was one of the few childhood moments I felt proud of, though I was never sure I did the right thing. Giving her the bread was absolutely right, but tossing it to her that way was like treating her like a dog or a beggar or some such. But I was convinced she would never have taken it if I had gone up to her and offered it to her. It had to be done in a way that wouldn't necessarily mean _charity_ or _pity_.

My crush lasted through the years, growing stronger over time but still remaining a _crush_. I had flings with other girls but none of them interested me quite the way she did. There was no denying that she was special, something more than all the rest. That moment when she volunteered to take Prim's place in the Games made my heart swell with admiration while at the same time pound with fear. Her actions were beyond anything I could have imagined somebody capable of. For a person to stand up for someone else that way, to love someone that way, made me admire and idolize her even more. I knew I would never, ever know somebody else like that in my life and it filled me with regret to know I had never taken the chance to talk to her and now I never would get that chance.

Then Effie drew my name, and Katniss Everdeen was not at the forefront of my mind anymore. I still remember what it felt like. I don't think that memory will ever leave me. The Capitol doctors never bothered tampering with it either. They didn't see any reason to remove something that was connected to _fear_. There is no way to describe what it feels like to have your name called on Reaping Day, to have everybody stare at you, to know that this means the end. You will not get to live. You shall die. Your death is going to be entertainment to the masses.

I didn't think for even a fraction of an instant that I stood a chance. A baker's boy from District 12 would be no match for the careers and I was decidedly the weakest tribute of our district that year. Katniss was a hunter. A born survivor. Gritty, determined, and a fighter to the end. Plus, she was the girl I fancied. How could I possibly kill her? I knew I didn't have that in me. The fear I felt that day as I walked up to the podium was nauseating, honestly more like anxiety than fear. It couldn't be happening. It wasn't fair.

On the train, when we were sitting there waiting for Haymitch, was when I made my decision. A decision rooted in a desperate need to find a coping mechanism, a way to make it all have sense and have some meaning. I knew I was sentenced to death and that the rest of my life was now measured in days, not months. Possibly not even in weeks. But she, the girl I had such a huge crush on and who had made such an incredible sacrifice, actually stood a chance. I looked back at my life in that moment and I knew the only thing I had ever done that was worthwhile was tossing her that bread four years prior. So I made the decision to help save her life. I couldn't come out of the arena alive but I could make my death count for something. It gave me purpose and it gave me something to focus on other than that nauseating fear.

Truth be told I wasn't exactly charmed by Katniss' behaviour during our week in training. She was sullen, moody and unfriendly. Though as much as it irritated me at times I also understood her and felt certain that the stress of the situation had a lot to do with it. This was also the first time I got to be physically close to her for more than an accidental moment here or there and it was exhilarating. The way she smelled, the presence she had, all of it added to my growing attraction towards her. I was already very much attracted but it became something else entirely when I actually got to _touch_ her and hold her hand in the chariot. When I got to sit next to her at dinner and train with her, and when she started giving me attention, I felt a kind of happiness that had no place in the Hunger Games. I knew I was soon going to die, humiliatingly and painfully and for the whole nation to see, but my sixteen year-old heart swelled whenever she gave me the time of day. It was still a _crush_, but finally I was getting a chance to get to know her for real. I knew she probably wasn't like the way I imagined her in my daydreams and, more importantly, I knew that even if I wasn't about to be killed she wouldn't feel the same way about me.

Then she came to me when I was on the riverbank. Wounded and septic and weak and not far away from death's door. I knew about the rule change but I hadn't thought it would matter. In my state I was nothing but a liability to her. She stood a better chance alone than paired with someone like me. Still she came and she took care of me, even though I saw that the wound on my leg revolted her. She fussed over me, genuinely worried about me, spoke to me about private matters, and then she kissed me. There's no doubt in my mind that this was the point in time when my crush turned into real love. Now it was no longer me and my fantasies about her. It was Katniss Everdeen herself, there in the flesh, being just as caring and brave and considerate and strong and wonderful as I had always pictured her being. It was as if she stepped right out of my daydreams and proved herself to be a reality. I didn't know at the time that most of it was just an act. By the time I figured it out it no longer made a difference. I had crossed the line from infatuation to love and I didn't think that I could ever go back.

I can't as accurately pinpoint when they beat that love out of me. It's all a blur in my mind and Dr. Aurelius thinks I've purposely forgotten many of the torture sessions I endured because I wouldn't be able to stand it otherwise. All I know for sure is that I woke up in a hospital room in the Capitol and was interrogated and persuaded and then forced to give an interview on stage with Caesar, under the threat that they would execute Portia if I didn't comply. I complied. They executed her anyway. Her and the rest of my prep team. Then they took me to the dungeons and I knew I went in there with defiance, knowing who I was and what they would never be able to take from me. Then I woke up in District 13 some months later with an altered mind and a hatred for Katniss that ran every bit as deep as my love once had. There was still a part of me that did love her but that only made it worse because it made me hate myself, too, for having traces of those feelings for a mutt.

It's been difficult in more ways than one, the time that has passed since I was brought to District 13. Emotionally and mentally I've been to hell and back and slowly tried to rebuild my own self, bit by bit. I'm not even close to being done and fitting Katniss into that picture has been one of the most difficult aspects of it. Do I hate her? Do I love her? Am I indifferent to her? Oftentimes I haven't known for sure. It's hard to rebuild a relationship with someone who you sometimes still believe is a mutt, and lord knows there were many moments early on in the hijacking process, and in Thirteen, when I hated myself and wondered what the hell was wrong with me for ever having loved a _mutt_. Once I began to get past that it was still difficult, to say the least, to rebuild a relationship with someone you've tried to brutally kill on at least two separate occasions. I don't always remember my attacks so I can't say for sure that there haven't been more, but two I am certain of.

I told her the truth that day when I said I'm not in love with her anymore. At that point I was neutral, neither hating nor loving. When I came back to the district I had nothing, nothing at all. No mother, no father, no brothers, no friends. Delly Cartwright was the only friend I had who survived the bombings and she didn't come back. I didn't really have my memories, I had no sense of who I was anymore, no sense of self-worth and astonishingly little pride left in me. At that point I was so relieved that my feelings for Katniss were gone. It felt like a mercy in the middle of all the torment. At least I didn't have to deal with the pain of being rejected. Gale Hawthorne told me when we were in the Capitol that he was certain she loved me, based on a kiss on a beach in the second arena. For a brief moment I actually wished there was some truth to that but the moment went away very fast. I knew her heart wasn't with me. I remembered even then how I had hated knowing that she had faked her feelings for me and how I had hated even more that she would end up marrying me anyway. What could be worse than being the guy she got stuck with while she secretly longed for her dark-haired hunting buddy?

In my mind there wasn't any doubt that Gale was the one she genuinely loved. That was probably the part that was the easiest for the torture team in the Capitol to convince me of, because I was already half-convinced myself. When she never showed up to see how I was doing in Thirteen, except for the one time I asked to see her, I knew that proved her disinterest to me. Gradually I realized that she was fond of me but what good did that do? You can be very fond of a cat and not want to spend the rest of your life in a relationship with it. I know now that Katniss will never pursue a relationship with Gale but the reason for that is Primrose and what happened to her. Perhaps she might have chosen to be with me when I came back home but I refuse to be the guy she picks solely because she couldn't be with the guy she wanted. I had precious little pride left but I held on to what little I had with everything in me. I would never again hold out hope for someone to love me who clearly did not. I would never ever settle for being the one someone settles for.

Not that it was an issue at first. I wasn't in love with her. She isn't in love with me. Finally we had a chance to be friends, true friends. There were moments when I could sense something else, something that had been there once but was so vague and faint that I wasn't sure what it was. Eventually things shifted and whatever once attracted me about her began speaking to me again. I've come to realize now that there will always be a part of me that loves Katniss Everdeen. I keep it under control, suppress it somewhere deep down, an art I've perfected – almost – post-hijacking. The same process that helps me keep most of the attacks at bay also helps me lock my more tender feelings for her away or at least keep them under control. There is no point in ever letting them surface again to the point where they take the powerful hold they once had. All that would result in is me pining for her again to no avail, loving a woman who will never feel the same way about me. Instead I would like to think of it as remembering my first love fondly and always saving a special place in my heart for her.

Who knows what might have happened if she had shown any tendency to have romantic feelings for me? Maybe there could have been a chance for us. Not just maybe, truth be told. Probably I would have given myself to her completely if I only thought her feelings for me were the real thing. Sometimes those thoughts come to me but it only happens rarely. I can't allow anything other than that. I can't walk into the same trap I walked into before and give away what measure of pride I have left by pining for a woman who has made it abundantly clear she'll never want me like that. I'll never subject myself to all that pain again. If I allow my heart to be broken by her again I know for sure it will never recover. And letting my feelings for her take a hold of me would only lead to heartache. I was a good person once and she didn't love me then. She couldn't possibly fall in love with the person I am today. I certainly don't like myself so why should she all of a sudden? So I try to maintain a wall between us, though Lord knows there have been times when I've played with fire, my pathetic heart wanting to interpret things she says or does as signs that she does care for me as more than a friend. For the most part I've been able to force myself to suppress my feelings in those moments. I cannot survive if I let myself feel all the love I know I am capable of feeling for a woman who simply does not love me back.

I look at Lace, at the way her shoulder rises and falls slightly with each breath. I can't keep the warm smile from my face. I am so fortunate to have met her, and at just the right time, too. I sure as hell wasn't looking for love when I came to her shop to ask if she could make me a winter coat. She was just a friendly girl with a face that lit up when she smiled, someone who didn't make a big deal about my past and treated me like just another customer. Because she didn't have all the material she needed at first I had to come in a couple of more times to do some fittings and discuss the exact fabric and colour, something I had dreaded because I thought it would remind me too painfully of Portia. Instead I found myself having a good time and enjoying the casual flirting between us. Before I even realized how it happened casual flirting turned into serious flirting and, well, that's the way the story goes.

She is my saviour. She saw my loneliness, understood how broken I was underneath that façade of everything-is-always-peachy-keen. She had nothing to do with the Hunger Games or the rebellion or anything like that, had never done anything to betray me or double-cross me or use me for her own purposes. She was just there, offering me friendship and eventually her heart. Thinking about her and our next encounter kept me going and became one of the few things I looked forward to. I told her very, _very_ little about my past experiences and she never pressed for more. Occasionally she did ask a question or two about something she had seen me say or do on television but it was never with malicious intent and I came to realize very early on that anything I said to her stayed between us.

Most importantly, in her I found something I have never experienced before. She wanted me. She wasn't afraid to show it. She made me feel accepted in a way that nobody ever has before, certainly not my own family. Unlike Haymitch she didn't tack on a sarcastic glib or a dry remark with every hint of actual affection and unlike Katniss she didn't keep me at arm's length. With Katniss it was always such a struggle for me. I loved her so desperately and I wanted so badly to be near her, be seen by her, be accepted and _loved_ by her but even as I know she slowly began to care about me and even perhaps feel attracted to me on some level she always kept me at a distance. Sure, she'd let me hold her in my arms at night and she'd seek comfort in my embrace. She would open up to me about things she knew only somebody else who went into the 74th Hunger Games arena could understand and she would openly show concern when she feared for my safety. But there was always a wall there between us and I always knew she didn't want me _too_ close. Looking back I really feel like she took advantage of me at times, whether consciously or not. I loved her so and would have given her the moon if she asked for it and I was so pathetically eager to please her. She was a broken person who had seen more than her share of pain and fear and she would cling to me like I was her rock but she didn't _love_ me and she made sure I knew there was a line I oughtn't to cross.

Lace is different. She is in love with me, the first person to have ever felt that way about me, and she's only happy to express it. She doesn't have any walls up, doesn't hold back anything, never makes me feel like I'm pushing past her comfort zone. With her I've never wondered if she actually wants me there, like I did with Katniss several times. Sometimes I feel like I find myself in the role Katniss used to fill while Lace plays the part I played before. I'm the one with the emotional wall up, with secrets and darkness in my past that I'm not comfortable talking about and sometimes I want to seclude myself completely. Lace is patient, understanding, comforting and basically everything else I tried to be with Katniss before the Quarter Quell. Luckily in this situation there's at least mutual affection and infatuation. I want to be with Lace and I think she knows that. True, it's not the strong, all-consuming love I know I once felt for Katniss and, truth be told, I still stand on the cusp at with her but it's more than I ever thought I would get with somebody else. It's not a love that would move heaven and earth but it's love and asking for more than that is not reasonable nor realistic.

I try not to think about the one other similarity between Lace and me now and Katniss and I in the past. Katniss' heart was with Gale, even though I believe she didn't really admit it to herself. Part of my heart is with Katniss now, which makes me feel guilty since I know I can never give Lace all of me. I can only hope that she will accept what I have left to offer.

Lying here in the darkness next to the one person who has made me feel wholly and completely accepted in my life I realize that this is a golden opportunity to let go of some of the pain in the past and move forward unto a fresh start. I can put a lock on the part of my heart that will always belong to Katniss and I can accept truly and fully, once and for all, that she does not love me like that and she never will. In doing so I can instead focus everything on Lace. I can have a real life again. I can hold on to the one person who has made me feel genuinely loved. There is a chance I won't have to lose her too.

When she wakes up tomorrow morning I can bring her breakfast in bed and ask her to be my wife.


End file.
